


Beetlejuice Goes to Therapy

by Cryptid Kel (TheGreatKelthulhu)



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Swearing, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatKelthulhu/pseuds/Cryptid%20Kel
Summary: "I keep thinking about havin' sex with her, obviously.""Obviously." The doctor resisted the urge to roll his eyes."But I also keep thinking about.." Beetlejuice gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, looking...almost apprehensive?"Well...her."
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	Beetlejuice Goes to Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on a dream I had. Set between the movie and Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian.

"I'm tellin' ya Doc, I don't know what's wrong with me."

The self-proclaimed 'ghost with the most' gestured wildly as he paced around the room, looking more distressed than when he'd had his head shrunken in Juno's waiting room. 

_That_ problem had long been fixed, but now he had a different one altogether. 

"I can't stop thinking about her!"

The good doctor scratched the bullet hole in his temple thoughtfully, carefully considering the words that his client had just said.

"And this bothers you."

"Of course it fuckin' bothers me!" Beetlejuice flung his arms wide, obliviously knocking over a plastic potted plant. 

"I don't spend this much time thinking about _anybody_... except for m'self." He snort-chuckled the last part. 

"Right." 

"I can't get this chick off my mind. That _never_ happens! I'm tellin' ya, there's something wrong with me."

The doctor shifted in his wingback leather seat a bit, and gestured for Beetlejuice to sit down.

"Why don't you tell me what kind of thoughts you have about her."

The stripe-clad ghost flopped onto the couch, dust flying everywhere as he did. Neither man seemed to notice. 

"I keep thinking about havin' sex with her, obviously."

"Obviously." The doctor resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"But I also keep thinking about.." Beetlejuice gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, looking...almost apprehensive?

"Well... _her_."

The doctor blinked. "Would you like to elaborate on that?"

Beetlejuice shifted on the sofa uncomfortably, which was an odd position for him to be in and an even odder feeling for him to have. 

"I think about...how it'd feel to touch her, y'know? How soft her skin would feel." Beetlejuice wrung his clammy, mossy hands. 

"How nice it'd be to run my fingers through her hair...how good she looks in black, but also in red...I think about what she'd look like if she smiled, y'know all happy-like."

The doctor nodded. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost think that Beetlejuice looked...no, that couldn't be it. Could it?

"And," the chaotic ghost continued, "When I think about her...I start to feel kind of happy." 

The doctor fought off a smirk. Maybe it _could_ be. 

"And I wonder if…"

"If?" the doctor raised an eyebrow. 

"...if _I_ could make _her_ happy."

"Could you?" the doctor asked. 

"I don't know!" Beetlejuice waved his hands. "But that's what I keep thinking about. It's like Edgar Allan Poe's daughter has some kind of hold on me."

"She _does_ seem to be having quite an effect on you."

The ghost with the most snorted. "That's putting it mildly, Doc."

The room was silent for a minute, as the doctor considered his next move. 

"You're attracted to her, Beetle."

"Of _course_ I am!" Beetlejuice flung his arms skyward in frustration. "I _told_ ya that. I mean, she's got this sad goth look that just _does_ it for me, y'know?" 

The doctor nodded again, fighting valiantly to keep his amusement hidden. 

"But?" And he knew there was one. 

"But…" Beetlejuice took his sweet time finishing the rest of the sentence. He had to force himself to, looking visibly pained to do so. 

"But I don't just want to _screw_ her...I want to _kiss_ her...and _hold_ her, and give her everything she wants and if she ever cried I think I just might end the whole world…"

His eyes grew wide as his lips pressed themselves into a small thin line. 

"Doc... _what's wrong with me_?!" 

The doctor sighed softly and gave his client a sympathetic look. 

"That's called 'being in love', Beetle."

The ghost with the most scrunched up his nose at this 'diagnosis'. 

"Well, I hate it!"

The doctor sighed again, and said "It happens to us all, Beetle." 

"Isn't there something you can do about it, Doc?"

"I'm afraid not."

Beetlejuice shot his therapist a glare, then shot up off the couch, sending it and almost everything else in the room tumbling about wildly. 

"Well, _thanks a fuckin' lot_ , Doc!" He flung his arms around angrily, knocking a cheap painting off the wall. 

"What the **hell** did I even bother to come here for?! Some fuckin' help you've been!"

The therapist rubbed his holey temples, then glanced at the clock on the small table next to him. 

"Our time for today is up. If you'd like to schedule another appointment—"

"What the **hell** would I do that for?! So you can work off your suicide-debt by being useless? I don't think so!"

Beetlejuice stomped over to the door, flung it open hard enough to leave a dent in the wall, then looked at his therapist with unconcealed contempt. 

"Thanks for **_nothin'_** , Doc!" He slammed the door behind him, loosening its hinges. 

"Goodbye, Beetle," the doctor said to the closed door, smirking just a bit. "And good luck."


End file.
